“We carry accumulation of years in our bodies, and on our faces, but generally our real selves, the children inside, are still innocent and shy as magnolias.” Maya Angelou (Letter to My Daughter)
There were so many photo images of her as an adult in all stages of her life and fame; this was the only one of her as a child growing up in the South.
There is already a knowing glance, a certain sadness in her eyes.
It was written that she became angry about her station in life and the inadequacies in her school when, at the request of a perceptive teacher, she was given some books to read that were provided by the white school in the area. They were shiny, new, colorful and abundant.
Maya Angelou as a child